Road Running
by ScrivenTree13
Summary: Xander Harris, the whipping boy of fate. As the seasons went by he became less of a three dimensional character and more of a running joke. What if Whistler felt bad for him and got him some outside help. A few minor changes and in his senior year can spell a new future. Well, and Chaos. Starts season three, and might have crossovers, I'm not sure yet. May move to M.


**Road Running**

**AN. I'll keep this short, but it's been a long time since I last uploaded or wrote. To begin with, I can't promise that I'll be updating all that often, and I have a few stories floating around in my head, I might not stick to one at a time. As it stands, my last story is completely dead and I don't see myself reviving it any time soon. Thanks for reading this, I do promise that the next chapter will be longer (don't you just hate short chapters?)**

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Two demons walked into a bar. Normally, this being Caritas, that wouldn't sound like the start to some horrific joke, but these two seemed to merit it. The first was an average looking white man dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans. The braid swinging at his back and turquoise belt buckle and bolo tie might look OK on a Native American or some lanky cowboy type, but on his five four flabby frame, it only served to make him look utterly ridiculous in LA. His companion was just as much of a joke, he was short balding man dressed as an unsuccessful seventies pimp, lacking only the feathers and fur.

They slinked to a small booth, drawing attention to themselves by their comical renditions of a nonchalant walk. They may as well have dropped it; no one was at all interested at the comings and goings of mid-level flunkies to the Powers That Be and the Forces of Chaos. These two were even less interesting as they had been meeting in demon dives and bars for decades and were quite well known as the demonic equivalent of those espionage agents that would meet with their opposites and commiserate. It fit as these were doing the same.

Natty Bumpo sat and looked at his old friend and adversary, a frown creasing his brow. He hadn't seen Whistler this down in years, and he had known him since he was still going by Hawkeye and hanging out with that writer. His friend was downing whisky like it was water.

"What's up Whist?"

Whistler knocked back another glass and looked at his friend. They were sometimes enemies and sometimes allies. Chaos and Order were as opposed as Good and Evil, but the four fundamental forces were always changing and shifting alliances. His friend had served Coyote for centuries now, and the trickster deity was emphatically on the side of humans. He knew that he couldn't reveal too many of his bosses plans; the Powers were Good, but they tended to hate the forces of Chaos almost as much as the forces of Evil.

"You know, sometimes I really hate my job. I'm here in town 'cause of that slayer I told you about, you know, the one supposed to snuff it." His friend just nodded, "She ain't really the problem, you know slayers, they fall into line easy enough. It's the kid dat saved her. He's been marked for a take down."

"Whoa, I thought there were rules though. You know, free will and all that?"

"Yeah, they aren't gona whack him or nothin', just marginalise him, and then utterly crush his spirit. You know the drill, your side's done it too." Whistler sounded almost defensive with that. "It's already started you know."

"How so?" Natty sounded nonchalant, but his interest was perked here. This was the kid, the child of Chaos he had already heard about from Coyote.

"They gave him a choice, capital c here Choice. Save the world or lie to his friend."

"OK so that's a no brainer, where's the catch?"

Whistler sighed, "It's the first step to separating him from his group. The slayer and the witch won't forgive him for it, not deep down. It'll colour every situation and decision they make. Without them he'll start to drift, and then he'll be prepped for when they hit him with Anyanka."

Natty's hand shot out to cover Whistler's glass, and a hard gleam entered his eye. "You said no executions, and then follow that up with Anyanka? What are you playing at?"

The rueful chuckle that escaped his friend's mouth surprised the one time mountain man. "The deals done, D'Hofran's already signed up for it in return for some hefty concessions. She'll lose her powers for a few years, and slowly cut away at his self worth until he's utterly ineffective. Then we'll arrange for her to 'die' at some conveniently dramatic moment to finish the job. She'll get a decade or two vacation and then her powers back."

"If the deal's done, then what are you telling me for?"

"Damn it, I like the kid! All he did to get all this on him was save his friend. I got to show you the memory some time, the balls on that kid."

"Big?"

"Brass too! Went against Angelus, and not the only time either. But here's the thing Nat. I just see a glimpse of what's going on, the Powers see the big picture. If they say he's got to go, that's one thing, but setting Anyanka someone? That's not right."

"Amen brother," Natty lifted his glass in salute. "How can I help?"

Whistler leaned back in concentration. Here was his moment; he really believed in what he had just said, the Powers did know what they were doing, and he didn't want to change much. He understood sacrifice, after all, he had been guiding Champions on paths often fraught with sacrifice and betrayal for centuries. He may not like his bosses all that much, but he was a true believer.

Natty sipped his drink, he wasn't a believer: not in much of anything anymore. He was a believer in honour though, and he watched his friend struggle between duty and morality, a sometimes impossible fight. There was always a compromise somewhere, and you just had to muddle through it, even after centuries of practice.

Finally Whistler leaned back in, "He's scheduled for a road trip next summer. As it's going to go he wont get past Oxnard. Just another in a string of disappointments getting tossed his way. Maybe something could be done; maybe he can have his last hurrah. Who knows, if he finds love or prospects on the trip, maybe he won't be drawn back to the Hellmouth. As long as he's neutralised, the Powers don't give a damn."

Natty felt some input would be good here, "You'll find amnesia's your friend there. A long way from home with a sudden windfall and no memory's or maybe just bad ones to return to, I'll see what I can work out. Meanwhile, tell me some more stories of this kid, let me get a sense of him before we make anything definite."

Whistler's shoulders slumped in relief and he smiled, "Let me tell you what he's doin' now, while the damn slayer is off on her own little pity party…"


End file.
